Corpora Quadrigemina
by hionlife
Summary: Companion to A Slow Descent. Perhaps April did not get things quite right.
1. David's Descent

Corpora Quadrigemina

By, hionlife

The companion piece to A Slow Descent, you should absolutely read that first. Perhaps April did not get things quite right.

If I was a dog, they would have put me down by now. That's what they do with the really violent dogs, even if they've been calm their whole lives. Some dog goes off, bites a kid or something, even just once, and he's a goner.

Sometimes, I wish I were a dog. Because when you're human and you make that one mistake, you have to deal with it, or be dealt with, make up for it, or be put away. Unfortunately, you don't usually get to decide which. This wasn't my choice. Although, I guess a long string of indecisions on my part led to somebody else making a big decision for me. Because I needed help.

My mom decided that, based on about five seconds of evidence. It was over a year ago, not long after Senna's death in Everworld. I was at home making a sandwich when this guy my mom had been dating, Eddie, Ed, something or other, walked in like he lived there or something. Well, I didn't feel like talking, so I ignored him, or tried to, didn't say anything to him. But the guy came up and stood right behind me, like some kind of spook.

"Hey Dave, how was school?" He asked, like he really cared or something, like we were friends.

"Fine."

"Really?" I turned to look at him, wondering how long he could possibly drag this conversation out.

"Because your mother tells me you've been having some trouble." Oh, that. Well, life wasn't exactly easy. Senna was dead, which just, it wasn't, it's not easy. For any of us. Everworld was out of our control; we just wandered around, dragging each other someplace we didn't know of yet. Breaking an arm over there is like having your liver removed over here. Really debilitating. No one could fix it and I thought it was growing wrong, which didn't help the pain. I slept even less because of it, seeing less and less of the real world all the time. Some times I forgot where I was. I'd jump out of my skin if a door were slammed, ready to defend myself with a sword that I didn't have, and didn't need, in this world.

Ed still stared at me expectantly, his eyes glossed and beady.

"It's fine," I repeated. He nodded, stepped back.

"Well, your mother's really worried." He looked at me like I should be sorry. I'm sure she was really worried, just like he was so freaking concerned.

"She shouldn't be," I pushed past him to put away the bread and stuff, picked up the sandwich, when he opened his mouth again. I set it back on the counter. I really didn't want to hear anymore.

"Did she ask you to talk to me?" He moved towards me again, closing the gap.

"No, I just see how things affect her. I'm concerned for her, so I'm concerned for you," he had that Chicago accent, really nasal, really annoying. "I took it upon myself to intervene here. Seeing as your dad isn't around, maybe you need another guy to talk to." Hopefully, you can see where this is going, what kind of a jerk I was dealing with.

"He's around as much as he can be." Get the message Ed; it's not your place. He looked at me like I'd just said the dumbest thing he'd ever heard.

"Hey, you know, I'm just trying to help out a little bit."

"Well you're not." If he had shut up then, life would be a lot easier. Breathing, for example, would be a lot easier.

"I was your age once. I know how it is. Guys need guys, right?" He slapped my chest with the back of his hand, like we were old pals. "And with your dad not around," he trailed off for a moment before continuing. "Well, from what your mother tells me it's a pretty lucky thing actually. Sounds like the guy is a real bastard."

This is the part where I hit him. My fingers curled into a fist as the tendons in my arm, the same arm that was broken in another world, tightened and swung, impacting harshly with his jaw. He stumbled back a step, but recovered, and was swinging at me before I had a chance to say anything. It was a forceful blow, but not well aimed, enough to knock a tooth loose. After that, it was a flurry of adrenaline. I hit him a few more times. My lip was split open and then he shoved me, hard. I tumbled backwards, caught my back on the edge of the sink and brought more than a few dirty dishes with me to the floor. A plate, a cup, and a knife clattered down to the tile. We stared at each other for a few moments, chests heaving with breath. Then he lumbered towards me again. Everworld instincts, that's the only way to explain it. I grabbed the knife off the floor. It was longish and sharp, like you would use for cutting bread or meat or someone that calls your father a bastard. Swung it up towards his face and he froze. Exactly.

"Don't touch me," I threatened from the floor. He held his hands up, real startled and babbling.

"You are one messed up kid. What the hell do you think you're going to do?" I climbed up off the tile slowly; tried to keep the knife steady in his direction. He backed up until he bumped into the opposite wall.

"I'm going to tell you how it is," I said, wiping the sweat out of my eyes. "You don't know anything," I waved the knife around, "About me, or my father, and probably very little about my mother, understand?" He stepped away from the wall. I gripped the knife tighter, but I know he could see my hand shake. His voice was dangerously low.

"I understand that you are every bit the psycho your mother warned me about. You need help and she can't give it to you. She shouldn't have to, understand?" He mocked me, and my illusion of strength fell.

"She doesn't need you, she doesn't want you around, and she would be a whole hell of a lot better off without you." He finished and grinned maliciously. I swallowed hard.

"Fine." His eyes widened as I raised my left arm, trembling as I brought the knife towards my wrist.

This is the part where my mom walks in. I'm sure that you can gather the assumptions she might have made.

"David! What the hell?" Her voice cut through the room, so high, an octave only dogs can hear. I relaxed a little, looked over at her for just a second, when Ed tackled me, the air rushing out of my lungs when we hit the floor. We wrestled for control and it's blood and sweat and gasps of air, but I didn't know why I was fighting anymore. He pinned me easily, putting more weight on my wrists until I let go and the knife slipped from my fingers.

"It's over now," he whispered. And I could hear my mother crying on the phone in the background, explaining to the police that her son had gone crazy. Well, maybe I have.

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A/N: Edited this thing to death, and still am not entirely happy with it. Ah, well, hope it was vaguely entertaining. More to come once I've edited those partsto pieces as well. Oh yeah! Let us all hail the greatest title ever! It means four bodies and is a part of your (yes, your)brain. See, anatomy class does help with writing. Review?


	2. Jalil's Journey

Corpora Quadrigemina

By, hionlife

The companion to A Slow Descent, if you have not read that and are here on the second part already, you are probably very annoyed and possibly very angry with me. Go read it for both of our sakes.

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When you've had something like OCD your entire life, always feeling that presence, that edge, those voices in your mind, it's hard to tell when you actually start to slip. I thought I would know. I thought I had control. I was wrong. It surprises you. Like a virus on a computer that hibernates, just sits in some file, for days or weeks or even months and then one day, for no real reason, it just pops up. Deletes half of your hard drive.

Yea, it's more like that. But I didn't know. I didn't know. Which is why I never expected it would happen on a good day. It was a Friday and I had a date that night. Aced a physics test that morning, which isn't unusual, but every A still made dad proud. I remember handing it to him that afternoon. He'd slapped me on the back, shaking his head.

"That's my boy. NASA called for you yet?" That was it. It's simple, easy, good days like that which make Everworld seem so far away. Everworld was no longer a place to escape. When Senna brought my compulsions over from the real world, they stayed there, like a physical thing. Just like she brought over weapons and men. There was no joy in being there anymore when there wasn't that freedom. The real world, however, was like a brand new place. Here, I had only experienced that sort of freedom once before, also because of Senna, but now it was permanent, or so I hoped. I had never realized what life was really like, how it was to be healthy. Over in Everworld, no one said anything if I slept a little longer or if I lay there for a long time after waking, hoping to slip back into sleep and crossover. Of course, they all knew at that point.

I left my dad in the kitchen and made my way upstairs. Padded quietly through the hall and stopped in the bathroom. Finished my business and washed my hands once. Just once and it was okay. You really never appreciate the small things like that unless you have experienced the other side. I slipped into my room and closed the door, locked it. My mom had taken my sisters out shopping, so there would be no interruptions, but it was habit. I had to call Miyuki and see what time I should pick her up. I sat down at the desk, dialed the number and waited. After seven rings, there was still no answer, so I hung up. She probably wasn't home yet. It was still early. I could wait.

I turned on the radio, flipped open a book. Most kids would wait until Sunday night or Monday morning to start this homework, but procrastination tends to make me very nervous. It's like driving around with the fuel light on, hoping you'll have enough to make it to the gas station. No way. If something needs to be done, go do it, end of story. That sounds a little like David's attitude. Although, his and my perceptions of what _needs_ to be done tend to vary massively. Not as much lately. With everything that's happened, he's been doing an excellent impression of the walking dead, both here and there.

I tried to focus on my work. Thoughts of Everworld didn't belong in my new calm world. The good and the bad were entirely separate now. I jumped out of my chair, remembering the physics book that I had left in the kitchen with the test. Turned the radio off, strolled across the room, and reached for the doorknob. I really can't explain it. I mean there should be a reason. Fear is a rational thing, usually; there should be a reason for it. I knew that. And still as I reached forward to open that door, I just froze. For two seconds, honestly, that's all it took. I felt the adrenaline course through my body, unneeded, racing my heart, constricting my lungs. The room closed in and swirled around me. This shouldn't be happening here, not now, I thought. It's hard to rationalize with yourself when you can't breath and your muscles are so tight like you might snap. I sank to the floor, the terror pressing in around me. And I waited. My heart pounded, every beat thumping in my chest. I pretended that I didn't hear the phone ring, didn't hear my dad call for me, didn't look at the clock as the evening came and went. I could get up any time I wanted to. No problem. When my mom got home and knocked on the door, I told her I was sick. Which I was, sort of. Scared sick.

They didn't really start to worry until the next morning, almost noon. By that time I had lay down, curled up with my back against the bed. I'd spent the night drifting in and out of sleep, startling myself awake when I forgot to breathe. There was another knock on the door.

"Jalil?" My mom. "Are you okay?" I took a deep breath to steady my voice.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" The doorknob twisted as she tried to open it and fresh waves of fear tore through me. I jumped off the floor and flung myself against the door, panting for air. She couldn't come in here. No one could come in here.

"Jalil?" A question in her tone now that I couldn't bring myself to answer. A second voice, my dad's, joined her in the hall. Their whispered conversation came through the solid wood in muffled pieces.

"What's he doing?"

"I don't know."

"He's sick."

"Not saying anything."

"A key?" No, it was an old house, we didn't have keys to the doors. Did we? I didn't think so, but maybe they knew about it and never told me. Maybe they were going to get the key right now. No, they couldn't come in here.

"Mom?" I heard her breathing through the door.

"Yea?"

"I- I'm fine. Just tired, okay?" That was really convincing. I could hear the sigh in her voice as she spoke.

"Yea, okay. I'll come back later." Then soft footsteps moving down the hall. I slid down the door on to the carpet. Reminded myself that I could leave anytime I wanted to, I just didn't want to yet. I wasn't hungry, I wasn't thirsty, and I wasn't scared. Yea, right.

Native Americans have a spiritual tradition of isolating themselves. Young males go off on their own to pray and fast for days or weeks or as long as it takes. The goal of it all is to receive some message or vision about a greater purpose or direction in their life. And while I really don't believe in all of that, it's kind of how I felt as I lay there on the floor. Drifting in and out of sleep and panic, here or there, eventually it didn't matter. I lost sense of time and the voices of my parents, which periodically came to the door, faded until I didn't hear anything anymore. I just was. I just was scared. Perhaps that is my greater truth.

Not the most comforting thought after all. I thought I had a handle on how Everworld and this world balanced. I thought that I knew who I was, but I guess I was wrong about that too. I can separate myself from the OCD, it's just a glitch, it's not a part of me, but the fear is different. It's here and there and paralyzing in both places. Is this me really better off than that me? Am I only one and always the same person or do I have some kind of externally imposed schizophrenia? Is Everworld Jalil thinner or stronger than real world Jalil? I didn't know anymore. All I knew for sure was that I couldn't handle this world anymore. I couldn't go out there and be in it.

A thump on the other side of the door startled me away from it. I sat up fast, choking on the air.

"Jalil?" That was my dad, voice laced with worry and determination. "We're coming in."

"No!" The volume of my own voice shocked me in the quiet space. They couldn't come in here. Through the door I could hear the creak of my dad's old tool box opening, my mom's voice, and then a light hammering as my dad tapped the bolts out of the hinges.

"Dad, don't come in here!" I was frantic, could I move the bed in front of the door, the dresser, the desk. It was all too heavy, too much. The window, no, I couldn't go out there. I pressed my back against the door.

"Dad, please." I felt the door shake behind me, the first hinge released. And all I could think was no. No, no, no, they couldn't because I couldn't. I felt to my knees, drawing shallow and infrequent breaths. My chest ached with intensity. And then the door fell open and the world swallowed me whole.

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A/N: Well, I think that was better than David's part, or I hope anyway. Christopher is next. I don't think I will do a part for April, because you've already got her point of view. Yep. Review?


	3. Christopher's Craziness

Corpora Quadrigemina

By, hionlife

The companion to A Slow Descent, let's hope you've read that by the third part here.

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Motivation is a funny thing. A threat to your life, large sums of money, a hot dog with the works, these are all very good motivators. Preserving a sense of normalcy without reason, not as much. Not anymore. This is what I realized that morning, just about a year ago now. David and Jalil had already been sent off to the funny farm and these are two people that I consider to be very levelheaded, smart guys. So, if they couldn't handle this, I realized, what the hell was I trying so hard for? It wasn't like I was doing so fantastically as it was. I was only me, no one expected much to begin with. Everything was falling apart and there was no way I'd be the one to hold it together. Forget that.

So, I grabbed a bottle of something, something strong, didn't matter what, and went back to bed. Curled up with my alcohol at seven in the morning and listened to my parents getting ready for work below me. Half an hour and half a bottle later I was well on my way to a really lovely sort of day, when my dad yelled up the stairs.

"Christopher?" I pulled the covers off of my head.

"Yes father?"

"Go to school!" Right, sure. Then the front door slammed and the house was quiet. Now, I'm not entirely sure what the wise sort of thing to do would have been, but it definitely was not the following. I crawled out of bed, chugged the rest of the bottle, and drove myself over to the school. Always do exactly what daddy says. That's very important, very important. Too bad I was already late. Too bad I didn't care.

Now, when you're late to school, you're supposed to go down to the office and talk to Mrs. Durnham, the secretary. She'll give you a note that says you're allowed into class or whatever, but the office was all the way on the other side of the building and I really didn't feel like schlepping all the way over there. Schlep, now there's a funny word.

"Hey! Mrs. Durnham! I'm late!" My voice bounced off the metal lockers, echoed down the halls.

"Do you hear me?" I dropped my books on the floor and cupped my hands around my mouth, put on my best macho guy voice. "Hitchcock to Durnham, I am late, repeat, I am late. Please respond. Over." Nothing. What was wrong with her? I dropped my hands, screaming now.

"Hey! I know you can hear me and I am not schlep, schlep, _schlepping_ all the way over to the _freaking_ office just so you can tell me to get my ass to class!" A few doors opened after that one. Teachers stuck their heads out. A few approached me slowly, like I might've had a gun or something, so I put my hands up.

"I'm innocent, I swear!" Two of them grabbed an arm each and tried to lead me down the hall.

"We'll see about that Mr. Hitchcock." Guy on my right, sophomore history.

"Honestly, I've been f-f-framed," I emphasized with spit, made sure to look at the guy when I was talking to him. Man, was I on a roll now. Unfortunately they didn't let me defend myself to the judge, I mean principle. He marched right out of his office and handed me the proverbial pink slip. And can you believe the guy actually apologized! Like someone else made him do it. Yea, right.

I was supposed to wait in the nurse's office while they called my parents, but here's the thing; they left the door open. They left me alone in that room, _with the door_ _open_. Hello. I got up and strolled right out to the parking lot. They should really tighten up security around here. I sat in the car a few minutes, knowing I definitely couldn't go home. Maybe I could go to the hospital, visit my crazy pals. Or not. I started the car up. There are better ways of doing some things. Put it in drive. Sometimes, you just have to wait for the answer to come to you. I turned that car around and floored it, over the grass, through the flowers. The glass and metal and brick of the entrance loomed up fast in front of me. Motivation, my friends, is a very funny thing.

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A/N: Well, I guess that's the end, sort of. While writing these, the characters felt right to me (I hope to you to) but something elseseemed off. I finally realized that Ms. Applegate didn't write many scenes of the characters in the real world, so putting them there and leaving them there for the entire duration was kind of out of sync. Oh well, I hope you had as much fun reading as I did writing. Let me know if you did.


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